


The One He Lost

by thebeastinsideusall



Series: Marvel Head Cannons and Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: 300 (2006), Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Love, Sadness, Spartan, Thor Feels, Thor finds the one, he loved her, he misses her, spartan law, spartan woman, the grief, thor loved a woman before jane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 14:59:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9553715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebeastinsideusall/pseuds/thebeastinsideusall
Summary: There's a small chest in Thor's rooms. Its engraved in latin, not Asgardian. It's etched with symbols of Shield and Wolf and Sword and Spear. He touches it sometimes, but never opens it. Jane asks, only once, what's inside that small chest. He only smiles sadly and says, A gift from an old friend, and nothing more.





	

The winds pick up. Bending the delicate strands of wheat in the vast fields outside the city gates. Her fellow soldiers marching, moving into the fields and headed west. For the hot gates. Her back is warm in the sun, her body tight for the impending battle she must face with her fellow Spartans. But her heart is heavy. 

There stands the man she could have ever hoped for in her wildest dreams. The dreams of a young girl that didn't go through the trails of a boy. That didn't go into the wilds and survive, coming back like her elder brother. Throwing the pelt of a wolf down onto the stone steps of the city. Making her the first and only Spartan woman to ever attempt and survive the trials to be a soldier. 

There stands Thor, the stranger who offered his help. The dark brother to his side. Both of them strange and odd but strong warriors. He was kind in his ways but his strength held no contest against a regular man. He was loud and loyal. Pride exuded from him without being haughty. He was strong. And the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes upon. She could never have him. Spartan men were the only men who could lay with Spartan women. And soldier she may be, she was still a woman, still a Spartan woman. 

"Must you go on your own? Must you face this battle without aide?" His voice is soft, tender. Something she's never heard from a man like him. Then again he is the only man like him. Her chest tightens somewhat, a strange feeling of loss. 

"It is my duty, I must fight for my country, for my people, for our freedom." She wants so much to reach out and touch him. Show him what she can of her feelings for him that have grown in only a few short days. But she cannot, she will not. 

"Why can we not join you?" His voice turns angry, wanting to help the fight but her brother would not allow it. This was Spartan soil, so Spartans will fight. And the King's word is law.

Leonidas calls out to the three hundred ready for his word. "Move out!" Soldiers moving in lines as red capes flow like the stain of blood in the golden fields of wheat. 

She turns on her heal, stays in her spot as her elder brother watches her from the top of the hill. Her brow furrows as he gives her a nod before vanishing over the hill, leaving just her and the brothers in the tiny valley. Her body turns and she takes that nod as permission, if it wasn't then she would be reprimanded for it later, she didn't care. Her arms are thrown around his neck, the heavy shield falls to the ground as her lips meet his in a daring and passionate kiss. 

Chest aching because she has to leave, her brother only giving her moments to be by herself. She releases him, her cradles her face as if she was made of glass. But she wasn't, she was stone and iron and steel and for a moment, he makes her feel soft, and she's thankful to him. She tugs the necklace from her neck. The braided leather strips that hold the claw of the wolf she killed. Wraps it tight in her hands and sets it in his large palm. A token. 

Her face is smiling sadly and she sighs into the wind that blows her red cloak around her ankles. Brushing her sandals. Can see the worry and care in his eyes but she cannot show anymore of her true self. It's not their way, not the Spartan way. She bends to pick up her shield, the weight of it that was once light in her arm now rests heavy for what she could never have but is losing all the same. 

Her feet are moving her toward the hill. She's nearly crested it when his voice calls out to her, a deep baritone of sound. A command, a call of advice and affection from one soldier to another. Her back turns and the wind whips the stray strands of her dark hair over her cheeks from the tight braids. 

"Spartan!" He takes a few steps forward but comes no closer. The necklace dangling from his tightly curled fist at his side. Golden locks tumbling, a glint of sheen from the strange hammer at his hip. 

"Yes, Asgardian?" Her voice carries to him loud yet whisper gentle on the wind to his ears. 

"Come back with your shield... Or on it." His eyes are hard, he was so desperate to protect. But there is no reason or rhythm because of her breed. Of what she is. There is reason to protect, but only from her fellow soldiers, her brothers in arms. The men she trained and fought beside for years and years now since her seventh year. He's not of Spartan blood, but she wishes so desperately he could be. 

"Yes, Asgardian." She doesn't say it... -goodbye my love...- There's no room for softness. Not in Sparta. No place for weakness. Only the hard and strong may call themselves Spartans. Only the Hard. Only the Strong.  
They march... she marches. For their families. For their lands. For their freedoms. They march. And Thor... Never sees her again. 

He knows she died honorably. In battle with her fellow Spartans. She fought hard and well for days and days with little rest between waves of the Persian army. He knows she fought with sword and shield and spear with every last breath and muscle of her body. Just like her brother taught her. 

She dies fighting beside her brother. Arrows stuck in her back and chest and legs. Her shield dropped to the ground and sword impaled in a Persian soldier. Her spear long broken and stuck in the gullet of a Immortal. She dies a Spartan. Like her brothers felled beside her and behind her. She dies an honorable, glorious death in battle. 

And really, what more could anyone have expected from a Spartan soldier. Woman or not she was one. Thor clutches the clawed necklace in his fist. Hundreds of years after the battle that took her away when he had just met her. His father refused to give aide to the humans. And he foolishly went with his brother to help them. 

Sometimes he wished he'd never gone to earth that day. Landing just outside the city of a Spartan nation. A nation who refused the help but still offered their kindness and generosity to strangers who claimed them no harm. Sometimes he wished he had followed the army that day, helped them take down the enemy of many nations. Heimdal refused, Odin refused. Both of them saying this battle had to take its course its own way, he could not interfere. He wishes she could be by his side, the Spartan woman who could fight better then even lady Sif. Better then the Warriors Three. 

He clutches the frayed necklace in his hand gently. The claw that was once a blackest black has now greyed in its age. The tip sharper now from his near constant rubbing of it for so many years. He sighs, because he must put the thought of her away. She's dead and gone and has been for so long now. Yet her face is still fresh in his mind as the day she stood on the hill and looked back at him. Blood red cloak fluttering against her thick muscled thighs and ankles. Strong sword at her hip and spear in her hand, hazel eyes shining in the morning daylight. And Thor knows she was a warrior, but in that moment, she had been a goddess. 

The necklace is put into a stone box, sealed and enchanted to keep it safe and from any more decay. The box is etched with their last words to each other. It sits on a desk in his rooms in Asgard. Enchanted so none can open it, so none can see the insignificant token from a love he never got to have centuries ago. 

He loved her. And he knew, she would, could, love him truly. But it wasn't meant to be. So he sets the box down, gently caresses the top on days where his heart is heavy and he needs a reassurance that he knows only she could have ever given him. And is otherwise left alone. 

A box sits in Thor's rooms. Jane sees him touch it ever so often, then leave it alone. She can't open it, never sees Thor open it. It's a mystery to her. And a niggling in the back of her heart tells her its something vastly important yet insignificant simultaneously. She wonders what could be in the box where a shield is etched into the top of the lid. Where words are scrawled but not in norse, in Latin. And a wolf, sword, spear and shield are craved into the sides.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love
> 
> Comments are life


End file.
